Suncoast Society
Pretzel Logic
Brita was a cop until an on-duty injury while protecting a child forced her retirement. Now, her days are spent teaching firearms classes, shooting skeet, and doting on her young niece, Jordan. She knows her relationship with Ethan is for life—it’s just a matter of forcing her brain to label it.
The moment Brita got shot is forever seared in Ethan’s memory. She’s the woman he loves, but he’s no dumb Dom. He’s patiently awaiting the day she can finally accept he’s not going anywhere.
Then, an incident during a school outing, where Brita makes a split-second call to protect Jordan and her classmates, changes life forever. Legally and morally, Brita made the right decision. Unfortunately, the man’s rabid fans paint a bull’s-eye on Brita via Jordan. When Brita disappears in hope of protecting her family—and her and Ethan’s secret lifestyle—Ethan knows he has to find her.
But first, he has to catch the bastards stalking her.
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary
Length: 58,032 words
PRETZEL LOGIC
Suncoast Society
Tymber Dalton

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
PRETZEL LOGIC
Copyright © 2017 by Tymber Dalton
ISBN: 978-1-64010-259-0
First Publication: April 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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DEDICATION
To Hubby and Sir. Also, to the spirit of our sweet Gidget, who was my writing “supervisor” and the heart and soul of our home. And to Kiwi, who unexpectedly joined us and started to help heal us from day one. What would we do without amazing furbabies?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tymber Dalton is the wild-child alter-ego of author Lesli Richardson. She lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC award winner is also the bestselling author of over one hundred books, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.
She loves to hear from readers! Please feel free to drop by her website and sign up for updates to keep abreast of the latest news, views, snarkage, and releases. You can also find all of her Siren-BookStrand releases under all four of her pen names on her author page on the BookStrand site.
www.tymberdalton.com
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For all titles by Tymber Dalton, please visit
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AUTHOR’S NOTE
Brita and Ethan were introduced in Happy Spank Patrick’s Day, and some of the early events in this book overlap with that book. They are friends of Bill and Gabe, who were first featured in Broken Toy. Sachi and her men are making an appearance from their usual home in the Coffeeshop Coven series. Her story is told in Many Blessings and Lost Bird.
While all the books in the Suncoast Society series are standalone works which may be read independently of each other, the recommended reading order to avoid spoilers and to not miss any backstory information is as follows:
1. Safe Harbor
2. Cardinal’s Rule
3. Domme by Default
4. The Reluctant Dom
5. The Denim Dom
6. Pinch Me
7. Broken Toy
8. A Clean Sweep
9. A Roll of the Dice
10. His Canvas
11. A Lovely Shade of Ouch
12. Crafty Bastards
13. A Merry Little Kinkmas
14. Sapiosexual
15. A Very Kinky Valentine’s Day
16. Things Made Right
17. Click
18. Spank or Treat
19. A Turn of the Screwed
20. Chains
21. Kinko de Mayo
22. Broken Arrow
23. Out of the Spotlight
24. Friends Like These
25. Vicious Carousel
26. Hot Sauce
27. Open Doors
28. One Ring
29. Vulnerable
30. The Strength of the Pack
31. Initiative
32. Impact
33. Liability
34. Switchy
35. Rhymes With Orange
36. Beware Falling Ice
37. Beware Falling Rocks
38. Dangerous Curves Ahead
39. Two Against Nature
40. Home at Last
41. A Kinkmas Carol
42. Ask DNA
43. Time Out of Mind
44. Happy Valenkink’s Day
45. Splendid Isolation
46. Similar to Rain
47. Happy Spank Patrick’s Day
48. Fire in the Hole
Some of the characters in this book appear in or are featured in previous books in the Suncoast Society series. All titles available from Siren-BookStrand.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Author's Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Landmarks
Cover
PRETZEL LOGIC
Suncoast Society
TYMBER DALTON
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Then
Brita smirked across the table at Ethan. “That sounds like a loaded question, buster.”
His playful smile lit her heart. “You looking for directness?”
“I am.”
He leaned forward and dropped his voice, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “I was thinking later we could go back to my place for the night.”
“We talking meepin’ or sleepin’?”
“Yes.” His smile widened. The inside joke between them helped reduce the chance of anyone ta
lking about their personal lives. Ethan loved to tease her that he could coax meep sounds out of her during sex, and it had become their code for it.
Detective Brita Delgado suspected what she felt for this man, Detective Ethan Neri, was love. He was patient and kind, and in the past four years they’d known each other, she’d never had a single reason to doubt him or not trust him.
Ever.
That he could continue to be with her when she refused to even label their relationship spoke volumes about his dedication to her.
She had signaled for their check when her radio went off.
Both she and Ethan immediately perked up and paid attention.
“All units, shots fired, domestic dispute in progress. Caller states male subject sounds drunk and screaming, and there is a woman and male toddler in the apartment…”
They were both up and moving, Ethan leaving a couple of twenties on the table. The waitress knew them and knew they were cops and would put the extra on their tab to apply toward their next meal. Normally, they paid in advance in case of this very situation. That afternoon, they were supposed to be off-duty, due at the state attorney’s office in an hour to go over testimony for a case tomorrow.
Except that they were less than four blocks from the address the dispatcher gave.
Brita had already responded to dispatch that they were close and en route.
They’d taken Ethan’s unmarked unit to lunch. He hit the keyfob to pop the trunk and grab his vest, pulling it on over his shirt while Brita caught the keys he tossed her so she could get the engine started.
As he slid into the passenger seat, she didn’t even wait for him to buckle up as she backed out of the space and headed for the address, lights going but running silent.
He carried his Sarasota County Sheriff’s Office windbreaker, the one with DEPUTY emblazoned on the back. “At least you can put this on.”
She glanced at it. “If they don’t know me by now, I’m screwed anyway.”
“You’re not going in there without a vest, B.”
“We don’t know what we’re facing. It might be forensics and clean-up by the time we get there,” she grimly said. “Stop worrying.”
The old apartment complex was three up, three down, a concrete block building that looked like it was built in the forties or fifties, and located in a previously run-down neighborhood which was currently undergoing gentrification that hadn’t yet reached this particular property. The three ground floor units opened to covered stoops three steps up each, and a low block wall surrounded the front, the flowerbed it held back filled with half-dead azalea shrubs struggling to maintain their grip on this earthly plane.
As they pulled up to the apartments, they saw that the middle door stood open. Brita ignored the windbreaker, jumping out, sidearm already in hand as she crouched and headed for the stoop.
They could hear the man ranting, screaming, his voice slurred and obviously intoxicated. A woman loudly sobbed, only exceeded by the sound of a young child’s cries.
At least they were still alive.
She did let Ethan take point, both of them using the stoop’s concrete columns as cover, Ethan on the right, her on the left.
“Sheriff’s Office. Come out with your hands up!”
“Imma gonna shoot this damn bitch!” the man roared. “I’m tired of her ruinin’ my life!”
“Come on out and let’s talk about it,” Ethan called back. “You shoot anyone, you can’t take that back. This is still fixable. No one’s been hurt. We can talk this out.”
Brita tried to peek around the column and see inside, but the interior was too dark with the afternoon sunlight in their eyes for her to get a good view. Plus the door opened inward, to the left, blocking that angle of view.
She ducked down and, in a crouch, descended the steps and jumped the flowerbed’s block wall to circle around the stoop and give her a better angle to possibly see inside to the right of the doorway.
She spotted a small pair of bare feet, moving, like the child was sitting against the wall close to the right side of the door.
As Ethan kept the guy talking, Brita holstered her weapon and pressed against the front wall of the building, now able to see more of the child. From the way he was crying, he either wasn’t hurt, or wasn’t mortally wounded.
Yet.
She felt Ethan’s burning gaze on her as she focused on the child and edged closer to the stoop. Brita knew she was not only concealed by the apartment’s front wall, but that it was made of concrete block gave her a modicum of protection.
While the unseen woman started talking to the suspect, Brita tried to softly get the boy’s attention by making whispering noises at him. Finally, he leaned forward and saw her. She nodded, giving him a big smile and crooking her finger at him, hoping he’d toddle out the door so she could snatch him and run to cover behind their car.
Now two more marked units arrived, and she heard more sirens closing in the distance. As the man started raging again, Brita shut down everything except her focus on the little boy. Maybe two years old, if that, he looked dirty, and was dressed only in a diaper.
He turned onto his hands and knees and pushed himself up into a standing position. As he did, she boosted herself up onto the stoop, still concealed by the apartment’s front wall and to the left of the open doorway.
Her pulse pounded in her ears and time seemed to slow, every movement now coated with frozen molasses as the boy stepped into the doorway.
She lunged for him. As she heard the shot, she reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him against her body as if he were a football. She let momentum carry her across the stoop, turning her body to shield him as another shot rang out.
Fiery pain radiated through her left hip and her leg gave out. She shoved off with her right leg, taking her off the other side of the stoop as she once again turned to cushion their fall with her body.
She was aware of Ethan screaming her name, the other officers yelling, more shots as they made their entrance. The wind was knocked out of her as she missed the scraggly azalea bushes and landed on top of the low block wall ringing the flowerbed, taking the full brunt of the impact along the length of her back, just to the right of her spine.
Pain flared through her body, but the toddler was still screaming, so she hoped that meant he was okay. She knew she shouldn’t, but she forced herself to roll to her left, off the wall and to the sidewalk below, landing with the toddler between her body and the wall. More pain flared along her spine and her gun dug into her right hip as she did, along with an ominous, painful crunch in her right shoulder upon impact.
Breathe. Keep breathing.
More shouting, but the gunshots had stopped. Time slammed back into full speed as she heard more vehicles pull up but she didn’t dare move again, knowing she might have done even more damage by rolling to put cover between them and the shooter. Now the toddler was squirming, trying to get away from her.
“It’s okay, honey,” she said, forcing the words out through her agony. “I’ve got you. Stay still.”
“Brita!” Ethan leaned over her. “B!”
“Don’t move me,” she cautioned. “How bad am I shot?”
“Oh, god, officer down! Get EMS!” he screamed at unseen others. “Oh, shit, baby, you’re going to be okay.”
“Take him,” she told him.
She didn’t dare move so much as her head, already knowing from the numbness she felt in both legs that this was bad.
Really, really bad.
She didn’t know if it was from the bullet or the fall, and at that point there was so much pain, she didn’t care.
It fucking hurt.
Ethan gingerly extricated the toddler from her embrace. “He’s okay,” he told her, then she heard him pass the baby off to someone else. “He’s unharmed, just a little scraped up.”
“Perp?”
“Dead.”
“Woman?”
“Beat up, but okay.”
“Go
od.” She closed her eyes and let the pain suck her down.
“No! Baby, stay with me…”
* * * *
Ethan rarely changed the TV channel. Not like he was watching it, paying any attention to it whatsoever. It served only as noise to help cover the incessant beeps and noises in the ICU unit.
His focus lay squarely on Brita. They’d been able to save her leg. Fortunately, the asshole hadn’t been using hollow points. But she now had a plate in her upper left femur, and would likely have a limp for life. She’d also injured her right shoulder in the fall, her right collarbone fractured and a torn tendon there adding to her misery.
More disconcerting—and uncertain—was her back injury. They’d done surgery to remove bone chips from where two of her vertebrae had cracked from the impact of the fall, but the good news was she displayed reflexive feeling and movement in her legs and feet.
Yet now, three days in, Brita was still heavily sedated for pain and because they didn’t want her moving any more than necessary until the swelling in her spine went down more. At least she wasn’t on a ventilator, but she had practically no tolerance for the pain meds they gave her, so she might as well have been in a medically induced coma. She spent less than twenty minutes a day awake.
Ethan thought that might be for the best for now.
A wall of blue had surrounded them with love and support, people bringing him food and coffee so he could stay at the hospital with her, bunking in a reclining chair next to her bed in the ICU unit.
Being a cop did have some privileges. This was one time he wouldn’t be ashamed to milk it.
Her parents were going to fly in tomorrow from Phoenix, and her sister and brother-in-law had already stopped by to check on her. But their daughter, Jordan, was just a toddler. Right now, there wasn’t anything they could do to help Brita, so he told them both to save their time off from work for after she was home from the hospital. That’s when he’d need help for her. His own parents were divorced and remarried. Had been for years, his father living in New Jersey and his mom in Texas. They’d both met Brita a couple of times, but the stress of having them there and trying to play referee wasn’t worth it.